


Retaliate

by GreatGawain



Series: The Adventures of Pink Floyd [5]
Category: Pink Floyd
Genre: Gen, Not Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:54:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24558754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreatGawain/pseuds/GreatGawain
Summary: Richard has finally reached his breaking point with the band - and Roger in particular
Series: The Adventures of Pink Floyd [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772323
Kudos: 7





	Retaliate

Richard Wright felt he was underestimated. This wasn't a new feeling; it had been this way since he had joined the band. But recently, it felt like the group wasn't giving him enough credit for his work, or, frankly, enough of anything he needed in order to _do_ his work. The most he had been able to do with his voice on their last album was backing vocals on the longest track, and his instrumental contributions had barely been able to disguise how little he was able to write for the band. His motivation had been failing, that was all. From Dark Side, he had been discouraged from their bassist's new control of their lyrics and songwriting to put much effort, but Richard felt even less inspired to play his best on tour when that man was constantly playing right in front of him. It angered him, that he was always on _his_ side of the stage. The man could walk, but Richard couldn't. His keyboards forced him to stay where the equipment put him, but he wished that bassist would take a walk during the show once in a while so that he would get away from him. Richard was bothered enough that he was starting to be picked on by him more and more, with each passing day, it seemed, and to have him placed next to him every night was all the more irritating. He felt one day he would snap, and he both dreaded that day with fear and awaited it eagerly with anger.   
Richard was just dying to pull some kind of offensive act on him. All the stress he was under, he wanted to give it right back to the one that was causing his pain. He wanted to perhaps reverse a string and see if its owner would notice, or alter the bass's tuning just before a gig. Richard played guitar himself, he knew how to do it. Hell, he was the one that tuned his bass anyway. That angered him the most; that this man came to him for service on his own instrument and treated him with such plain disrespect other times. Richard felt himself grow more and more irritated by this, with every gig. Finally, one night after a show that had made the hated man particularly angry for some reason, Richard had been verbally attacked by him and had no other choice than to listen to all of it, with David and Nick watching on the sidelines in helplessness. That did it for the keyboardist. He decided that somehow, he would make his headache feel remorse for what he was causing.

But he didn't realize how much fury had really been stored inside his heart, when his revenge was taken, right in front of a full, high-strung audience, as the band was preparing to start the show.

~~~

He made his way over to the front of the organ that faced his direction, messing with a piece of thread stuck in the corner of one of the frets. Richard saw him coming. He glared, but upon noticing the man hadn't looked up from his instrument, turned quickly around and pretended to adjust knobs on one of his synthesizers and not seen him approach him.  
"Rick."  
He didn't look up. He didn't dare move. He kept his eyes down, his fingers stopping their movement, for they were trembling too harshly for him to turn anything without actually messing it up. The bassist, lightly surprise at the absence of acknowledgement, stopped his own hands and looked up, a frown beginning to form to match the riding impatience in his voice.  
"Richard?"  
The keyboardist's eyes narrowed and he glared into space, still hunching over and keeping stock still. How dare that man _insist_ upon using his own talent to make up for his lack of. Rick had gone to school for music, studied it, played it for years. He had worked for it. And it hadn't come easy. He wasn't about to just be used as a personal tuner for this prat's own disposal. Oh no. He was more than that. He didn't need that. A single droplet of perspiration slipped down the side of Rick's face as he found himself growing progressively angry. He was a person, too. He had feelings. He wasn't a nobody. He was a musician…  
The bassist was genuinely annoyed by this point, and hit his hand down moderately hard on top of the organ's finished wood surface, the impact making a sound loud enough to get the seemingly deaf man's attention.   
"Richard! Do I have to stand here all day and wait on your indolence? What are you even doi-"

He'd had enough.

Richard whipped around, exceptionally rare anger blazing in his eyes, and glared at him. He grabbed the extended bass guitar that was pointing at him by the neck and shoved it right back towards its owner, whose eyes widened with surprise. Rick clenched his hands into tight fists as their eyes met again. "UP YOURS, IF YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING YOURSELF!" he shouted into his hated face. The bassist was paralyzed. "What the f-"  
But he was once again cut off as Richard, livid as he already was, grew that much more furious and gave it to his band mate right on the stage, in front of a crowd that roared in response to the sight before them. But the keyboardist was already storming off the stage by the time their shouting caught the attention of the rest of the band, leaving his broken colleague to fall back onto the floor with Nick rushing over to help him and David sprinting after Rick.

David found the angry rock star supporting himself against one of the walls in the backstage lounge, with his arm outstretched and his hand flat against the wall and his head hanging low. His opposite hand was rubbing his face tiredly. He appeared to be taking deep, slow breaths and muttering a string of profanities, with his eyes tightly closed as if to shut out the rest of the crazy, fucked-up world that was pressing against him.  
Weighing his options quickly in his head, the guitarist marched into the room and stopped a few feet away from Rick, and then placed his hands on his hips. "What the _hell_ was that out there?!" he demanded, eyebrows knitted into concern and shock.  
Richard turned around, the fire still blazing in his bright blue eyes and not doused by his retreat backstage.  
"I'm letting him know just how I feel I'm being treated right now. I'll bet that thick prat still doesn't get it."  
"You punched him in the face, Rick!"  
The guitarist watched as his working partner gave him a deathly look from behind his feathery brown hair. If looks could kill, David swore that the one he had just gotten would have poisoned his blood and suffocated his soul.  
"I'm sick of it, David," Rick spat. "That wanker and the rest of you lot treating me like a child, like I'm just here for your own services. I'm a musician, but I'm a person, too. Believe it or not."  
"Rick, you're in a _band_. You have to work with us. You can't go off and do your own thing; none of us can. We all have to work within limits."  
"You don't even treat me like a member, David." His voice had lowered a touch. "I don't know what's going on with life, but I'm not feeling equal treatment from the rest of the group. Especially not Roger."

David realized his friend was genuinely hurting. He wanted to contribute, but without the help and encouragement from the others, he was slipping. Not to mention their bassist was beginning to tighten the reins on their creativity. He wished he could apologize on behalf of everyone and make it better, but he bit his lip and instead tried his best.  
"Rick, now isn't really the best time to talk this out. When we get back home, write a few pieces and bring them in. Roger's getting picky, but he can't elbow everything." David swallowed, hoping his words were enough to settle his band mate. For now, at least.  
It seemed that Rick had calmed down to a safe degree, and he allowed David to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

As they both made their way back to the stage, they ran right into the very person that Rick had just hissed about minutes before. He was being helped away from the excited crowd by two roadies, pouring questions into his obviously annoyed ears and handing him white gauze for his bleeding nose and lip. Their eyes met, and the men were forced to restrain him from launching himself at his enemy.  
"You _shit!_ What the _fuck_ is your problem?!" he snarled, and David blocked Rick from attacking or being attacked by pushing him back with his arm while glaring at Roger.  
"That's enough from you," Richard said, glaring at him with as much menace as he could muster into his eyes. "I don't regret a thing."  
The injured man stared back, struggling against their hold on him that was trying to pull him away and down the hall to some kind of medical care. He narrowed his flashing eyes and stared right into Richard's, giving him a look that would normally have chilled the receiver down to the very marrow of his bones.  
"You'll get it from me someday," he growled quietly in a tone that was deathly sincere. "This will come back to haunt you, Wright. Mark my words, _I will make you suffer for this."_  
And with his bitter promise spoken into the air, sealed by a line of blood running out of the corner of his mouth, the road crew members jerked him away and broke his gaze as they stumbled down the hallway again, leaving Richard and David to exchange glances as they returned outside to settle the crowd.

**Author's Note:**

> Richard has Had EnoughTM  
> I wonder how many times he thought about doing this IRL...  
> The original version of this had a couple more sentences added to the very end about his resignation a few years after but looking back it just felt kind of cheesy so I left it out  
> Speaking of which, this is set between 1975-1977
> 
> Wrote this in 2012, didn't edit recently except what I mentioned, please be gentle~


End file.
